


Tumblr Smut Prompts

by agent_starbuck, ObserveroftheUniverse (observeroftheuniverse)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Drabble Collection, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Smut, Spanking, Trapped In Elevator, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-07 12:49:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_starbuck/pseuds/agent_starbuck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/observeroftheuniverse/pseuds/ObserveroftheUniverse
Summary: Just a collection of smut prompts posted on Tumblr. I'll update this as they become available!





	1. Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm a simple person, so my prompt is: 'Oh, fuck, Mulder.'" 
> 
> Office sex. Established relationship circa season 7. NSFW.

The smooth, frigid metal of the filing cabinet against the searing skin on her back elicits a sharp intake of breath from her lips.

 

“Shit,” she breathes as Mulder fumbles with the zipper on the side of her skirt.

 

“So vulgar, Scully,” he tsks as he drags his bottom lip along the soft curve of her jaw to whisper in her ear. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

 

She knows he gets off on this– her profane language whenever they’re intimate together. She was notorious with her past lovers for being quiet and reserved. Since being with Mulder, however, that has definitely changed.

 

The first time she’d cursed during sex with him, she actually apologized.  _“Christ, Scully. Don’t apologize for that,”_  he’d said between kisses.  _“It’s fucking hot. You’re hot.”_

 

His mouth closes in around a sensitive nipple through the black silk of her bra and she hisses her approval. “God, Mulderrr.” His fingers crawl across her belly, causing her muscles to ripple in delicious anticipation as he teases the skin beneath her waistband. She can tell she’s already soaking.

 

“Wanted you… ever since you walked into the office today… wearing this little number underneath that white blouse of yours,” he mumbles between wet kisses against her writhing chest. “You make it impossible to behave at work.”

 

“Mm, c'mon now Agent Mulder,” she croons sweetly into his hair as she runs her nails across his scalp. “Since when do you care about following the rules?”

 

“Valid point,” he breathes, reinforcing his statement by sliding down her body to his knees. A surge of fresh arousal coats the inside of her thighs at the sight of him there. Waiting.

 

“You smell so good, Scully. Jesus,” he huffs against the lace of her underwear. His fingers curl around the elastic and slowly tug them down until she’s bare in front of him.

 

His eyes grow dark as he stares at her– pink and glistening with need. Her entire body is humming in time with the pulse set between her legs. Her exposed bud engorges and swells next to his perfect lips. She thinks she might die if he doesn’t touch her and soon. Knows he can’t resist not touching her and soon.

 

She waits with bated breath as he licks his lips. The crackling energy of pure want and need is palpable in the air between them. The overhead fluorescent lights buzz and flicker in anticipation as if feeding off the electricity of their desire.

 

His tongue peeks out to take its first taste, and the air leaves her lungs in a whoosh.

 

“Oh,  _fuck_ , Mulder.”

 

He wastes no time getting her to the edge. He knows exactly how she likes it: fast and hard. The tip of his tongue laps at her clit relentlessly, only stopping to selfishly suck her between his lips, groaning at the taste of her succulent flesh, before resuming his pace.

 

As she glances down at him, she notices his free hand slowly kneading his turgid member through his tight slacks, the beginnings of a moan caught at the back of his throat, and that’s what sends her over the edge.

 

“Oh my God! Mulder, I’m coming! Fuck!” She pants as she spasms against his mouth, and he swallows every last drop, coaxing her back to reality while he languidly cleans her up.

 

“If that was punishment for wearing my black bra under my white shirt, you’re going about it the wrong way,” she says as she tugs him up for a kiss, wrapping her tiny hand around his stiff cock.

 

“Punishment? No, Scully that was encouragement. Someone has to keep me from following the rules.”

 

They broke the rules three more times that week.


	2. Ethan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Headcannon nobody asked for: after starting on XF Scully started initiating sex with Ethan more than she did before. She would come home and just... be all over him. He thought she just missed him during the day, but really she was hot for Mulder and would imagine it was Mulder fucking her.
> 
> For @observeroftheuniverse. Thanks for the headcannon!

The air is stifling in the basement office, and not because the AC unit has been broken for the third time this week. A flush creeps over Scully’s cheeks as she watches a bead of sweat form on her partner’s brow, and snake its way down his temple to that delicious spot below his ear. She has the very unpartner-like urge to lean over and catch it on the tip of her tongue– to taste the saltiness of his skin, to feel his rough stubble against the smoothness of her lips.

 

“It says here that New England is a little known hot spot for UFO sightings; the first dating back to 1639 when Massachusetts governor John Winthrop recorded a secondhand observation of unidentified objects in the sky over Boston.”

 

The sudden sound of his voice shakes her out of her reverie, and her eyes snap shut as she internally chastises herself for allowing such unbidden thoughts about Mulder to run rampant in her mind. It seems to be a common occurrence lately, much to her chagrin.

 

Scully watches intently as Mulder sets his article on the desk to roll his sleeves up to his elbows, then loosen his tie, the lean muscles in his forearms dancing under his tan skin as he works. She swallows thickly, her mouth suddenly dry as a bone. Was he  _trying_  to kill her?

 

“Scully? Earth to Scully?”

 

A measly “Hm?” is all she can manage at this point.

 

“I, uh, asked if you were going to eat the last Crab Rangoon,” he says amusedly, pointing to the greasy carton of takeout lying on the desk.

 

“Oh, ahem, no you go ahead,” she manages, her voice an octave higher than she would like.

 

He grabs the piece of food, and plops it into his mouth with a small groan, licking the remnants of the cream cheese off his fingers before flipping the page on his desk to continue reading.

 

Scully squeezes her thighs together as she squirms uncomfortably in her chair, crossing her legs one way, then another, in an attempt to adjust the damp material of her underwear– sweat mixed with desire the unseemly culprit. Embarrassment floods her features.

 

The phone suddenly rings, and she practically leaps across the desk to answer it. Any excuse to distract herself from the beautiful man sitting a foot away.

 

“Scully,” she manages in her usual, professional tone. “Oh, Ethan, hi. Yeah, um, I’m sorry I forgot about dinner. I had to stay a little later than usual tonight. No, no, it’s okay. I already ate.” She lowers her voice. “Will you be, uh… are you coming over tonight?” Scully glances up to see if Mulder is at all paying attention to the personal nature of her phone conversation. He’s still seemingly engrossed in his ‘research.’ “Yeah, just, I’ll see you later, okay?” She hangs up quickly, his usual 'I love you’ cut short by the sound of the receiver clacking against the base of the phone.

 

“Big plans for tonight?” Mulder finally looks up from his reading, a smirk played across his lips, a dangerous spark in his eye. Her heart picks up tempo at the candidness of his question.

 

“Me? No, I mean, not really. Ethan was supposed to make me dinner tonight, and I forgot he was coming over. So, I think we’re just going to… watch a movie or something.” she clears her throat as she focuses on the menial task of clearing their desk of empty food containers.

 

“Well, then. Have fun, Scully,” he says, and she detects a hint of sarcasm in his voice, but she doesn’t dwell on it.

 

 _'Oh, I plan on it,’_  she thinks to herself, and grabs her briefcase and keys to head out the door.

 

•••••

 

She arrives at her apartment to find Ethan sprawled out on her sofa, remote dangling precariously from his hand as the light from the TV dances across his sleeping form. Scully quietly slips her heels off by the door, tiptoeing over to the sofa, then straddling Ethan in one smooth move, waking him from his slumber.

 

“Dana?”

 

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” She peppers his neck with wet kisses. “I’m home.”

 

“Ungh, yeah, uh, I see that,” he chuckles nervously. “You-- God,” he groans, and she scrapes her teeth across his jaw, wishing it were a bit larger and more defined– more like somebody else’s jaw she’s been fantasizing about a little too much lately. “You, uh, okay there?” he continues, his voice strained.

 

“Yeah, of course,” she breathes as she leans back to look at him through hooded eyes. His hands move to grip her hips, and she runs a finger down the crisp, white material covering his forearms. Suddenly, she grabs at the buttons covering his wrists, and sloppily rolls his sleeves up his arms.

 

“If you’re trying to undress me, I think you’re going about it the wrong way,” he says amusedly.

 

“How come you never roll your sleeves up?”

 

“I, uh, I dunno,” he says, taken aback by her bizarre question. “I guess I don’t like my shirt to get wrinkled.”

 

“Hmmm,” she offers as she grabs his other arm to give it the same treatment. “I like them rolled up,” she leans in and purrs in his ear, taking an earlobe and sucking it in between her teeth.

 

“God, Dana, what’s gotten into you?” he practically yelps, as she grinds her hips against his in desperation.

 

She answers him with a searing kiss, as she works at the buttons on his trousers.

 

“I just need… I need you–”

 

_‘Don’t say it. Don’t say Mulder.’_

 

“–Ethan. Please?” Her voice is trembling with need. God, she wasn’t aware of how much working twelve hours straight with her good-looking partner actually affected her… until now. She’d be mortified if she wasn’t so absolutely turned on right now.

 

She runs her hands through his scalp, picturing shorter, spikey strands slipping through her fingers rather than Ethan’s gel-slicked hair. She tousles it a little to her satisfaction. Ethan has always been so clean-shaven and kempt. She craves something different tonight– something more rugged and masculine.

 

He works at getting his tie off, before her hands slide down to stop him.

 

“Leave it on,” she says and she loosens his tie a little before working to slide his pants off his hips. His erection springs free, and she slides her panties to the side, before slipping down his length in one, agonizingly slow movement.

 

“Mmmm, Dana,” he drops his head to her shoulder, and she closes her eyes, as she begins to ride him frantically.

 

“Dana, sweetheart, geeze. You’re soaking.”

 

“Scu– mmmm, Scully,” she pants between breaths.

 

“What?”

 

“Call me Scully,” she moans, and she’s already so close. She’s been close since she left the office.

 

“Uh, okay… Scully,” he breathes, and she immediately convulses around him at the sound of her surname echoing between them.

 

“Mmmm, Mul– Ethan,” she groans lazily as she recovers, the last of the tremors wracking her body. Chancing a look down at Ethan, she’s worried he might’ve noticed her slip-up, but he’s too busy chasing his own orgasm to care, and she slumps against him, sweaty and spent… and seriously confused.

 

“That was– God, that was,” Ethan struggles to catch his breath. “Amazing.”

 

“Yeah,” she offers, feeling a pang of remorse for using Ethan like she just did, before rolling off him to go clean herself up.

 

“Maybe I should call you Scully more often,” he quips as he tugs his pants back on.

 

“No!” She replies a little too quickly. “I just, um, I prefer Dana. I don’t know why I said that earlier, honestly.”

 

“Oh. You sure you’re okay?” he asks, trepidation evident in his voice, and she walks back over to plant a chaste kiss on his lips

 

“Of course,” she attempts to sound casual. “We still gonna watch that movie?”


	3. Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "500 word smut prompt - mulder addressing the UST while they are stuck in an elevator. Angst!"
> 
> For @datanullyx

She wasn't prepared for this. Not on a typical  Monday afternoon after they'd been stuck in a meeting with Skinner all morning. Not after being reprimanded for all the expense reports supposedly unaccounted for and the subsequent fallout.

 

During the meeting, she'd held her tongue and offered insincere excuses as to why the reports weren't completed, hoping that Skinner would let them off the hook this time. Hoping her uncanny ability to obfuscate and circumvent the professional duties expected of them could buy them enough time to prevent the X-Files from having to participate in _yet another_ official review by the OPR.

 

_"Sir, yes, we understand they're a stipulation for agents assigned to out-of-state cases. Yes, we are aware that we've been behind on our quarterly financial reviews."_

 

This wasn't the first time they'd eschewed their fiscal responsibilities as agents in the FBI. And probably wouldn't be the last. After all, the X-Files is a rogue department all its own. They don't normally adhere to standardized departmental requirements. Still, they needed to do better.

 

"Look, I'm sorry, Scully. How was I supposed to justify those unapproved travel expenses for that time we went to New Hampshire? It was a spur of the moment trip. I figured Skinner would just let us off the hook," he says, cooly, leaning against the wall of the elevator as it makes its routine journey to their office. She's momentarily distracted by the way the muscles in his forearms move underneath his tan skin as he grips the railing of the car before she refocuses her thoughts. His rolled-up sleeves should be an occupational hazard.

 

"Let us off the hook? Mulder, we work for the FBI," she retorts. "We're accountable to every cent we spend. Skinner can only do so much."

 

"It's bureaucratic nonsense. The X-Files utilizes resources differently than any other department. It's the nature of the beast."

 

As she was about to argue her position, mouth open, hands on her hips poised at the ready to see her side through, the car of the elevator suddenly careens to a halt, thrusting her forward and into the arms of her unsuspecting partner.

 

"Shit," he exclaims in the darkness. "You okay?" She can feel every syllable being spoken against her temple as he breathes against her. The close proximity to him-- the tender, yet sure and steady way he holds her upright-- makes her feel weak at the knees. It's disorienting and she rocks against him, unable to control her body and its reaction to his closeness. She can smell his morning aftershave; the coffee that he had earlier before their meeting.

 

"I'm-- I'm fine," she replies, holding onto him a little longer than necessary, lingering on the cusp of professional impropriety and personal desire, not wanting to extricate herself from his embrace. It feels entirely too good to be held by him. She shouldn't like it this much. She does.

 

She ducks her head and turns to retreat to her side of the elevator, back to safety, before she notices his grasp on her arms tightening.

 

"Mulder," she huffs against his shoulder. She intends it to come out as a warning, though the shaky quality of her voice makes it sound anything but. She can feel the resonate beat of his heart thumping frantically against his chest, the rhythm of her own heart responding in kind.

 

Flashbacks of his hallway-- of desperation and pure desire-- spark through her memory like a livewire. It wasn't all that long ago, though it feels like lifetimes. Physically, she hasn't been this close to him since, and there's a good reason for that, she thinks. She doesn't trust herself. Not after the profound revelation that he was going to kiss her. Not after she was going to let him. Not after he'd poured his heart out to her, and completely turned her life upside down with the weight of his confession.

 

_You kept me honest. Made me a whole person._

 

There isn't much that she remembers in the aftermath of being stung, her memory a hazy conglomeration of vague sensations-- mostly pain and fear-- but his words clung to the vestiges of her memory like a lantern in the dead of night. It's the one thing that guided her though when she was left in the freezing cold to die, the knowledge that he loved her.

 

For what were those words if not an admission of love?

 

"Mulder, I should probably try to find the emergency help button" she whispers against the smooth cotton of his dress shirt.

 

"Yeah, you probably should."

 

Neither of them make an effort to move. She feels the slow, deliberate journey of his hand travel down the curve of her arm, past her ribs, to land on the contour of her hip and a gasp catches against the back of her throat.

 

He's never touched her there before.

 

A tingle spreads from his palm to the throbbing pulse between her legs and she feels herself already growing wet. His nose nuzzles against her cheek and he inhales sharply, the shadow of his lips brushing against her skin in a ghost of a kiss. Blood roars through her ears as she attempts to get a handle on her breathing.

 

They should stop. They should definitely, definitely stop.

 

She doesn't want them to stop.

 

As if mirroring her thoughts, the hand on her hip slides under the hem of her sweater, the pressure of his lips on her cheek becoming more bold-- and _oh_. That was definitely a kiss just now.

 

She's unable to contain that gasp caught in the back of her throat as his mouth slides across her skin to find hers-- plump, open, hot, wet, and waiting.

 

The synapses in her brain fire in all directions as their lips finally meet for the first time and the only intelligible thought her mind can manage at the time is _God, Mulder is kissing her. Actually, kissing her. And it feels incredible_.

 

She's thought a lot about what those devastatingly plump lips of his would feel like pressed against hers, but nothing can quite compare to the tangible actuality of it occurring right this very second. Not a lot of kisses she's experienced in her thirty-four years of living have taken her breath away quite as much as this one.  

 

In fact, she can't recall any of them being this amazing. Not because Mulder is _that_ incredible at kissing, though he's definitely skilled, but because it's _Mulder_ kissing her. Her best friend. Her partner.

The man who walked through hell on ice to the ends of the Earth to save her.

 

They finally pull apart out of necessity for air and the feel of his quickened, ragged breaths along her just-kissed lips sends a shudder down her spine. She wishes she could see him in the darkness-- those half-lidded, hazel bedroom eyes locked on hers in that heated gaze she can practically feel against her skin right now-- but the inability to see allows her other senses to become hyperaware.

 

"Mulder," she whimpers. Actually _whimpers._ And suddenly he's there again, kissing her desperately. He's practically trembling against her. His other hand-- the one not pressed against her ribs underneath her shirt-- slides around to the back of her neck, and he's holding onto her like she's his lifeline, like it's _she_ who's saving him now.

 

His fingers finally brush against the fabric of her bra, her nipples hardening to sharp peaks in anticipation. She thrusts her chest against him in encouragement as his tongue traces every inch of her mouth. When a large palm finally slides under her bra to massage a breast, she moans breathily against his lips.

 

She's wanted this for so, SO long. The fact that it's happening at work on the government's dime would normally be enough deterrent to make her stop what she's doing out of professional decorum, but Mulder's tongue down her throat is currently preventing her from any rational thought. Nothing this wrong has felt this right.

 

Before she realizes it, he's got her pressed up against the other side of the elevator wall and his lips are trailing sloppy kisses down the slope of her neck as he works at the buttons on her slacks. So quickly she barely has time to register what's happening, his hand slides down into her pants and he grips her dripping sex.

 

"Scul-ly," he breathes, awestruck, in that raspy voice of his. "Jesus, you're soaking."

 

A moan is all she can manage in response as the pad of his middle finger swirls around her aching bud. Her legs threaten to give out from the pleasure, but he presses into her more firmly, his fingers stroking her steadily with intent. Already, she can feel the pressure building low in her belly. This was going to be fast and hard.

 

"Mmm, Mu-- Mulder," she moans. Their strangled breathing and the obscene sound of her wetness as he gets her off echo loudly against the walls of the elevator. She reaches between them, fingers trailing along his tight abdomen, until she finds the hard evidence of his desire jutting against the material of his slacks. She runs a palm along the length of him and he thrusts up into her hand with a strangled groan.

 

"Christ, Scully," he breathes against her shoulder and she lowers his zipper, reaching in through the opening of his briefs to pull him out. In the years working together, she's seen enough to know he's well-endowed, but the feel of him fully engorged, so swollen and thick in her tiny hand, is almost too much to take in. That he's this hard for her is beyond comprehension.

 

She gives his throbbing cock an experimental stroke, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his fingers resuming their maddening pace against her clit. Her muscles quiver in preparation of her impending orgasm. She picks up the pace, spreading the fluid leaking from his tip down his impressive shaft to help lubricate her movements, while she jerks him off. His hips buck against her hand and she can tell by the tensing of his muscles he's close.

 

"Sc-- Scully, come on. I know you're close. Come for me. I need, God, I need you to come," he rasps, and that's what does it, hearing his sexy voice as he desperately pleads for her to come, and she spasms and quakes violently against his fingers, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss while her orgasm burns through her.

 

"I-- I can't… I'm gonna--" he pants as she recovers and she instinctively sinks to her knees to wrap her lips around his dick, stroking him three more times, before he erupts hotly into her mouth. She greedily swallows every last drop.

 

As if on cue, the lights miraculously power on and the elevator continues its steady descent towards the basement as they both scramble to make themselves decent in front of the cameras. He turns to tuck himself back into his pants and she quickly zips herself up, running a hand through her hair and fixing her crooked blouse, their eyes never leaving one another.

 

"I'm, uh, sorry about the expense reports," he says, running a nervous hand through his messy hair.

 

"I'm not," she replies with a cheeky grin as the doors ding open, and she walks out, leaving Mulder behind with a dumbfounded look plastered across his face.

  
  



	4. Ben wa balls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut prompt: Scully wearing Ben wa balls because she lost a bet with Mulder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Mulder.”

 

“A bet is a bet, Scully,” he chirps just a little too cheerfully. She knows if she glances in his direction she’ll find a smug grin plastered across his face right now. She decides not to look, annoyance fading into genuine nervousness at the realization of what she’s gotten herself into. 

 

Mulder never lets her back down from a bet, and she’s usually too stubborn, too competitive, to give him the satisfaction of seeing her surrender. However, the stakes have never been this high.

 

“I didn’t think you were serious,” she says cooly, as if what he had asked her to do last week while they were drinking on her couch didn’t have any effect on her. As if her stomach weren’t doing summersaults inside her belly right now, and the tips of her ears weren’t on fire. 

 

“I don’t even… own a pair of those… whateveryoucallthem,” she mumbles. 

 

She knows what they’re called. She just can’t bring herself to say them in front of Mulder. Their newfound sexual relationship, though mind-blowingly wonderful, is still in its early stages, and talking about sex toys, or even sexual preferences, in any capacity makes her slightly embarrassed.

 

“Ben wa balls, Geisha balls, Venus balls… orgasm balls,” he offers huskily, and the sound of his lips forming around the last two words sends a delicious tingle down from the base of her neck that settles between her legs. 

 

_Damn him._

 

“And,  _besides_ ,” she interrupts, fighting to keep control, though her voice wavers slightly, adding to her annoyance. “There isn’t any place around here to even purchase a pair. So, you’ll just have to wait until we get back to DC.”

 

_There. It’s settled. He can’t argue with that logic._

 

“I was afraid that would be the case,” he smirks, and her heart plummets as she waits for his next words. “So, I went ahead and purchased a pair before we left.”

 

_Of course he did._

 

“You did  _what_?”

 

•••••

 

She can’t believe she agreed to this. During a case, of all times. 

 

Sitting down in the car or at the local sheriff’s department was tolerable. With the exception of squirming around a little more than usual, she was able to conceal any hints of sexual gratification from registering across her body or face. 

 

However, walking was a completely different story. Each step felt like heavenly torture, and Mulder’s amused glances were doing nothing to remedy the situation.

 

As they make their way to their car outside the crime scene, she feels Mulder’s hand on her hip and instantly jolts at the sensation. She’s been on edge all day. Her core tightens around the balls in response, inciting a lightning bolt of pleasure to shoot through her body, and a moan to tear from her lips.

 

“God, Mulder!” she breathes, freezing in place, and looking around to make sure nobody is around to see, or hear, her.

 

“Relax, Scully,” he whispers against her ear as his fingers play along the edge of her blouse. “God, you’re so worked up.“ 

 

“I can’t imagine why,” she retorts though a shaky voice. She can feel him smile as he places a sloppy kiss against her cheek.

 

“How wet are you right now?” he rasps against her skin, and she squirms. The soaked material of her panties rubs deliciously against her clit and she bites her lip, stifling a moan.

 

She looks around to make sure they’re completely alone before answering. 

 

“Why don’t you use those notorious detective skills, and find out for yourself?” she taunts seductively, and feels him shiver against her in response.

 

_Two can play this game._

 

“Scuuulllyyy,” he groans. “Jesus, do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me all day, watching you struggle not to lose it? Listening to your breath hitch every time you move? Those little sounds caught in the back of your throat when you squirm? It’s so fucking hot.”

 

His hand snakes its way past her waistband, finding her impossibly wet. She bucks against his fingers with a gasp. The absurdity of it all, of standing on the side of a country back road with her partner’s hand down her pants while on-duty, suddenly disappears as soon as he circles her aching bundle of nerves with his calloused fingers.

 

“Mulderrrr." 

 

Her knees weaken, and she falls against him, her pants muffled by the cotton of his shirt as he continues to swirl her own moisture over her clit in a maddening pace that he knows will get her off and fast.

 

"That’s it,” he coos in her ear as he places soft kisses against her neck. “You’re so close. God, I can feel you quivering against my hand. Have you been like this all day?”

 

She nods quickly in response, brow furrowed in concentration, jaw slack– the ability to speak suddenly impossible as she feels her body tighten and snap like a twig.

 

Within moments, she’s shattering around him in a ripple of pleasure, sensations heightened by the ben wa balls inside her pressing against her g-spot and prolonging her orgasm.

 

“Mulder, ohhh my god,” she murmurs lazily against his chest as she recovers. 

 

“That was so incredibly sexy.” He presses his lips to the top of her head.

 

“Now I know why they’re called orgasm balls,” she breathes, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “Whaddya way we get out of here? I think these things still have some mileage left in them.”

 

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	5. Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder gives Scully a Choice his Hand or his belt. Season 7-ish. PWP. Slightly Dom Mulder. Second person POV.

You let yourself into her room without so much as a knock, striding across the garish, muted floral carpet with feigned confidence as you reach your destination, your heartbeat accelerating with each and every step.

 

“Mulder, what–” Scully attempts, eyes wide with shock and slight indignation, as she stands by the sink before you pin her against the counter roughly, coaxing a gasp from her lips. The obscene sound reverberates off the tile walls and through every muscle in your body, causing your cock to twitch deliciously in your jeans.

 

Her hips squirm against your burgeoning erection as she struggles to break free, and flecks of white hot light spark behind your eyelids at the feel. You know she could have you on your back in two seconds flat if she wanted to. Somehow that makes you want her even more.

 

She smells like mint and desire, and your eyes fixate on a small smattering of toothpaste nestled in the corner of her perfect little mouth. Your greedy tongue darts to taste it before your lips slide over hers, swallowing her moans, along with all your doubts that she might not want this.

 

She wants this.

 

You’ve never been this rough with her before. But you’ve picked up on all the cues…

 

“Don’t be gentle,” she’d murmured against your ear last week on her sofa in the throes of passion, the forgotten movie blaring in the background, as you pinned her hands above her head and tortured her with the slow rhythm of your hips. “Harder, Mulder. I’m not going to break.”

 

You’re about to test that theory. Right now.

 

Your curious hand ventures between the two of you, searching for that familiar, silken heat you’ve come to know oh so well, and she sucks in a lungful of air as your fingers brush aside the lace barrier to make contact.

 

“God, you’re dripping, Scully,” you breathe thrusting against her, the head of your sensitive cock pressing into her cotton-clad stomach. She’s wearing your Oxford dress shirt, the light blue one, the one that’s mysteriously been missing for a few weeks, and you’re so hard, it hurts.

 

“It's… your fault,” she struggles between strangled breaths, her swollen lips bruised from frantic kisses, eyelids at half-mast. You want to devour her, finish the task you set out to accomplish, but the sight of her so aroused makes it almost impossible.

 

“Turn around,” you order before you lose your ability to speak. “Bend over.”

 

Surprisingly, she acquiesces to your demands without a single protest, turning away from you to lean against the counter, the hem of her shirt exposing the bottom of her perfectly round ass and the skin of her inner thighs that’s now glistening with evidence of her arousal. You struggle to breathe. She peers at you seductively from over her shoulder, and you realize you’ve just been standing there, staring.

 

“Now what?"

 

Shit. Say something.

 

"You, um… do you want my hand? Or my belt?” you finally croak. It comes off less confident than you imagined in your head, but she doesn’t seem to notice– her ass rising up to meet your groin as she leans over the sink even more.

 

“Um. Your hand,” she says tentatively, sucking the flesh of her bottom lip between her teeth.

 

Christ. She actually wants this.

 

Your shaky hands move to the belt on your jeans, then the buttons, as you work to free yourself until finally you feel the heavy fabric give way and fall to your feet, the metal from your belt clanking against the floor.

 

You look down to see your cock tenting the flimsy cotton fabric of your briefs, and you reach past the elastic to grip yourself. You can’t help it. Squeezing and stroking, once– twice– as Scully watches your reflection in the mirror with hungry eyes.

 

“You make me so hard, Scully."

 

She whimpers in response.

 

"Feel how hard I am for you.”

 

Stepping forward, you press your throbbing erection between the soft cleft of her cheeks, and she moans.

 

“You want this?” you grunt through clenched teeth, and she nods, as you ruck the bottom of her shirt up, revealing smooth, ivory skin ensconced in the skimpiest set of black underwear you’ve ever seen.

 

You can do this. You can do this.

 

Gathering courage, you bring your palm down, whip-quick, against the flesh of her ass, and you watch in awe as her skin ripples from the point of impact, a throaty moan escaping her lips.

 

Your ears ache to hear the sound again. So, you do it a second time, a third time, her moans growing more desparate, more strangled with each pass of your hand.

 

“God, Mulder, I need you inside me,” she chokes, and who are you to deny her anything? Especially with her looking the way she looks right now, bent over and waiting. Especially with that red mark on her perfect skin blooming out from underneath her lacy underwear, causing your balls to tighten at the sight.

 

You fumble to remove your underwear and the last of her clothing before sheathing yourself in her tightness, and it feels so good, so right, you want to cry. She shudders and moans, and you waste no time setting a hurried pace. Your palm itches to slap her one more time and, as it makes contact, she cries out, spasms and tremors wracking her perfect little body. You don’t last much longer and, as you collapse on top of her against the counter, sweaty and spent, your hand reaches down to trace soothing circles across her raw skin.

 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

“Only in a good way, Mulder,” she smiles and kisses you, and you wonder how you got so incredibly lucky.


End file.
